


Are you there, God? It's me (again), Klaus.

by tinymaninatincan



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Sibling Love, Temporary Character Death, and klaus loves everybody, and the hargreeves as loving and supportive family we also deserve!, angst with fluff with more angst, don't let me love a character: i'll make them suffer, everybody loves klaus, post-Season 1, the dave and klaus reunion we deserved!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 06:04:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18088817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinymaninatincan/pseuds/tinymaninatincan
Summary: Nobody said that life was easy, but at least someone could have warned Klaus that death was an even bigger bitch.(Or the one when Klaus dies again, God doesn't like him yet, Dave is still the most beautiful and kind person he's ever meet, the Hargreeves are finally a real family, and sacrifices must be made).





	Are you there, God? It's me (again), Klaus.

**Author's Note:**

> So. The Umbrella Academy has consumed my life and I've accidentally ended up writing this in three days. At first it was meant to be a short exploration of Klaus' relationship with life and death, and the reunion with Dave he and they and we deserved and were robbed of, with the Hargreeves loving each other in a way that the season 1 only started to show us, but apparently I can't write things without turning them into almost 10k words monsters.
> 
> English isn't my mother tongue and this has been so hard to write; I admit that I'm not entirely sure I like the final result, but after a year being completely unable to finish any of the stories I started writing, I promised myself that I wouldn't give up on this one, so... here it goes. Sorry for any possible mistakes, this work isn't beta readed and I've just revised it very quickly before posting because adult resposibilities are calling me. Here we die like real women.
> 
> Title from the tua comics (don't let it fool you, it may sound funny but I cried writing this thing). 
> 
> Enjoy!

 When Klaus opens his eyes, all he sees is a white sky and the monochromatic branches of monochromatic trees, and the first thought that crosses his mind is a “oh, shit, that little girl is going to be pissed”.

 Maybe it isn't the most appropriate thing to first think when you discover that, apparently, you're dead (again), but, let’s be honest: Klaus has never been known for being appropriate or anything of the sort. Besides, God being an ethnically ambiguous kid is cool, sure, but She’s quite imposing too, and She made it quite clear the last time that Klaus wasn’t one of Her favorite creations.

 Klaus sits up slowly, patting his body almost unconsciously in a vague attempt to find any clue of how he has died this time, but except a very, very slight thrumming on the left side of his head and an almost-not-there itch on the back of his throat, that probably would make him want to cough if he was still alive, he feels nothing. Not the same kind of nothing that came with numbing his body and soul with everything he could drink, shallow, snort, or pump into his bloodstream, but a nice kind of nothing: there is no tremblings abusing his muscles, no inherent exhaustion in his bones, nor any type of pain. He feels… _good_. Perks of paradise, he supposes.

 Still, although being in heaven feels divine (ha), the whole place still has an eerie aura, with all its calmness and black and white aesthetic, and Klaus guess it is only fair if he tries to remember why he ended up here. 

 Let’s see, the team (yeah, the Hargreeves had only needed the apocalypse to finally became what Reginald aimed them to become, go figure, that good old bastard always got whatever he wanted) were working on stopping the end of the world by altering key events in the past. It has been a few weeks since the whole Vanya becoming a super angry and destructive superviolinst and the exploding moon and teleporting to the past fiasco, and since then Five has been calculating like a madman to pinpoint those key events and change them. Of course, those assholes at the Comission weren’t too happy of their attempts to stop the end of everything, which, rude, and they have been trying to stop them, chasing them, like a creepy cat and mouse game through space and time and with more intention of real murder. 

 And, oh, yes, now Klaus remembers something: the last he knows, his siblings and him were, precisely, being attacked by those highly trained time-traveling assassins, somewhere in some docks in the forties. The fight wasn’t pretty, they were a lot of them and only six (well, seven, if Klaus would _just be able_ to conjure Ben again; the silly thing didn’t want to work at will, ok, he was still working on it), although it wasn’t as bad as it had been back in the future at the theater. However, the team decided to split, to fight and/or try to escape them in small groups. Klaus was with Vanya, trying to keep her as calm as the situation allowed, in order to not unleash another world-ending surge of power, when a couple of those masked psychos had approached their hideout in the loading bay, next to the water, guns raised. Allison, who was also with Klaus and Vanya, confronted them with her ninja kicks, using the scarf that usually covered the scar on her throat to make one of them lose their weapon. But the other still had one of those damned things, so Klaus had to go and do his thing. That was, jumping at the bad guy back, only after winking confidently at Vanya with a “be right back” in an attempt to reassure her (her iris were still brown instead of white, but he could tell that the situation was getting her almost there, and unfortunately, she still hadn’t had enough opportunities to practice and control her powers safely). He remembers struggling to make the psycho lose the gun, perched on his back like a human limpet. And he remembers achieving it only when he tore the awful gas mask from the dude’s face and dug his bony fingers in his eyes. But the guy was, well, a professional, and he managed to disentangle Klaus from his back, throwing him to the floor. The new position, although, was perfect for Klaus’ long leg to kick the man right in the balls, and, when he bent in pain, in the face, so hard that he could feel the bones cracking under his foot. After that, their attacker collapsed to one side and didn’t get up.

 The other one of the bad guys had met a similar fate, just a lump in the wooden dock a few meters from where Allison and Vanya were, the first already comfortingly rubbing the back of the second, who didn’t seem ready to turn white and murderous anymore.

“HA!, look at that, it’s not yours or Diego’s ninja kicks, but ain’t that bad, uh?”, Klaus had said with a toothy smile, jogging in their direction and pointing to the guy he took down. He could see the thin yet amused smiles of her sisters, but he hadn’t reached them yet when he heard Ben yell at him somewhere on his right. Klaus turned, just in time to see the dude that he just thought unconscious standing up, the gun again in his hands and pointing at Allison and Vanya. On impulse, he quickly changed the direction of his stride, and with all the force he could muster in his skinny and lanky body, he tackled the assassin. Then… then a loud bang, then another, and everything becomes blurry, black, and the next thing that he remembers is opening his eyes in heaven.

 Klaus supposes that the dude shoot him or something when they were fighting. Way to go!

“Serves me right, for being a show off. Well done, Number Four!” he mutters, a long suffering sigh abandoning his lips. At least, he hopes that his stupid overconfident stunt have saved his sisters. He doesn’t know why, but he has this feeling in the bottom of his belly that tells him they are safe and that he has taken that Commission’s asshole down with him.

 With one last sigh, softer this time, because, yeah, it may suck a little that he has died (not that he’s terribly bothered, at this point, he’s survived way more that he expected to, as morbid as it sounds), but at least he has kicked the bucket protecting his family, Klaus stands up with that gangly grace that characterizes him, stretching languidly before shaking the dirt off his tight leather trousers.

 Scratching his chin, he assesses his surroundings, verifying that, indeed, he has waken in the exact same point as when he died the first time in that damn rave: trees flank the dirt road that seems to go forever in both directions, and Klaus squints his eyes, trying to see if this time God is coming to insult him too; maybe in this second meeting She tries to run over him with that vintage bicycle, unhappy of having his scrawny ass here again.

 But there is no almighty little girl anywhere at sight, only trees, and grass, and more trees, and wooden fences, and some more grass, and over there it must be that cute tiny cabin where Klaus thought Dave was waiting for him, only to hide that retro barber shop, his old man being the one looking for him inside, ready to give him the scariest shave of his life, a lecture, and a fresh reminder of what a terrible and complicated father he was. Talk about unpleasant surprises.

 A violent shiver travels down Klaus’ spine at the thought of seeing Reginald again and spending the rest of eternity trapped here with him (it would be fun, though, the look of that bastard’s face if Klaus were to step back in his place with a “hey, daddy, guess who died again and is going to annoy you to death and afterlife?, yes, your greatest disappointment of son, surpriseee!”; and for fun, he means really awful, terrible and depressing). Hey, if that’s really the case, maybe he got it all this wrong and he’s ended up in hell instead of in heaven (and let’s be honest, it would make much more sense for him to end up downstairs).

 Almost unwillingly, Klaus’ eyes swift in the direction of the cabin-slash-barbershop, wanting nothing more than run far, far away from it, from the man inside and all the emotional baggage and trauma he caused. When he spots the place, he blinks.

 Then blinks again.

 Rubs his eyes with the knuckles of his hands, a little too forcefully, probably smearing all his eyeliner, then looks up and blinks again. And one more time.

 Because there, just outside the wooden cabin, next to a little garden Klaus hadn’t notice the first time, there’s a figure watering the flowers. A figure that _definitely_  isn’t Reginald.

 The figure - the _man_ , it’s almost turned away from Klaus, only his back and part of his profile visible, but, oh, that profile, that silhouette, Klaus would recognize anywhere, everywhere, and never mistake with anyone else. The tall and well-built frame and soft stride, the line of his shoulders covered in a light plaid shirt, which he observes now, overlap with details tucked safely inside his memory, golden hair, and sweet brown eyes (and fuck this monochromatic dimension, for wiping those colours out of his owner, Klaus’ favorite ones), and the even sweeter smile with a dimple in the left cheek and slightly crooked front teeth.

“Dave”, the name leaves Klaus’ lips as a nothing more than a trembling whisper, shy and broken, and if he was still alive it would be barely audible over the hammering of his heart against the inside of his ribs. But he’s dead, so his heart doesn’t beat, although it still hurts, trapped between a crushing hope and a dreadful fear. He takes two steps forward, then one back: if he runs to the cabin only to have the illusion of Dave ripped out of his reach again, to find that he isn’t here, that he can’t have him, he’s going to break down, and he’s not sure he’s strong enough to put himself back together. But, oh, what if, _what if_  this time, only this time, it is _real_ , and Dave, strong, kind, beautiful Dave is waiting for him just some meters away? The answer comes immediately to Klaus’ mind, clear and without any trace of doubt: it will be worth it. All the pain, the grief, all the heartbreak, the neverending fixing himself, everything, absolutely _everything_  is worth the most tiniest chance of seeing Dave again. Klaus already had risked it all for him before, risked the numbness of the drugs, his future, his present, his own life, risked ten months of it in a war, all new traumas and whatever was left of his innocence and sanity, for staying with him in Vietnam. And, despite it all, despite the tragic and devastating end of their wonderful story, he knows that he would take that briefcase and go back in time again, and again, and again, in every lifetime. So, yeah, the fear doesn’t go away, still grips his throat and his heart with a vicious, cruel hold, but he’s oh so ready to face it, to suffer it,  to jeopardize his heart again now. That’s why, in the very next moment, Klaus’ feet are flying over the grass, running fast, and this time, when he pronounces his lover’s name, it’s loudly, those four letters filled with hope, and adoration, and deep terror, and everything in between, “Dave!”

 The figure moves and turns, raising his head in the direction of the noise that it’s perturbing the otherwise calm countryside, and now that he’s coming closer, Klaus can see the bewilderment painting the features of that beautiful, beautiful face.

 Dave’s face splits in that boyish smile of his (the one that made Klaus fall in love almost as first sight, but, c’mon, who wouldn’t, he never stood a chance against it) when he sees Klaus sprinting like a mad man through the field, only slowing when he stumbles with a fallen log, and then he’s dropping the watering can, arms opening wide to catch Klaus in midair when he throws himself at him, bodies colliding painfully, avoiding falling to the floor by little, and then and only then Klaus lets himself believe it fully, that Dave is real, he’s _real_  and he’s in his embrace again.

 Neither of them cares about the impact, or the awkward way Klaus’ bony legs and arms tangle around Dave’s waist and neck, holding tight, so, so tight, like a castaway would to the last lifesaver in the middle of the ocean, or how Dave spins they both like if they were in a stupid romantic film, strong arms keeping Klaus secure, safe, not letting him fall, and god, now dad would be so disappointed of the way the powerful Number Four is weeping like a baby.

“Klaus, god, Klaus, baby, sweetheart”, Dave is muttering in his ear, voice just a little shaky, the hand that isn’t circling Klaus’ midriff wrapping around his nape, careful fingers caressing the messy curls there, the sweet gesture and the tender, cheesy nicknames making Klaus cry harder into his neck, “Baby, I missed you so much”.

“I… _I_  missed _you_!” Klaus isn’t proud of the way he hiccups at the end of the sentence, but who cares about his dignity when Dave laughs that wonderful, perfect laugh of his. And who’s strong enough to resist peppering his whole face with quick kisses while talking?, Klaus isn’t, for sure, “Jesus Christ, you have no idea” a kiss high on his cheek, another on that cute dimple, “how much I’ve missed you”, three quick ones in his temple, in the left eyebrow and in the corner of his eye, “I have never missed anything or anyone the way I’ve missed you”, the other cheek, the nose, the top lip, the chin, “it was like living without the most important piece of me. Totally awful, let’s not repeat it in, like, ever”.

 Dave laughs again at the affectionate assault, a soft tilt in the curve of his smile when he carefully lowers Klaus on his feet. His hands don’t go far, one on his narrow waist, serving as the anchor Klaus’ trembling knees need, the other going to his face. With his thumb, Dave wipes the tears tracks on Klaus’ cheeks, first the right, then the left, his dark eyes, damp on their own, inspecting his face with the same intensity and devotion Klaus has kissed his. And god, he must make a ugly, messy picture, probably with all his eyeliner smeared down half his face, red, puffy eyes, snot on his nose, his normally tousled hair even more chaotic, and maybe his old shirt with psychedelic patterns has a little few more holes that likeable?

 Still. Still, Dave looks at him like if he is… _precious_. Klaus, Number Four, _him_! Precious! Not useless, or a waste of space or just the good-for-nothing junkie that nobody takes seriously, but precious! Who would have guessed that someone could look at Klaus with no judgement, not disappointment or disgust or annoyance in their eyes? Not himself, that he can swear.

 That’s why, when he meets those bright, honeyed eyes and they are filled with nothing but affection, no, _love_ , Klaus’ breath is taken away, his lungs incapable of expanding under the weight of, finally, being loved and cherished, just as the very first time Dave looked at him like that, in that Vietnamese nightclub in 1968.

“Let’s not”, says Dave, eyes finishing his exhaustive inspection and locking on Klaus’ pupils, fingers stroking his hairline, the side of his face, with so much fondness that Klaus drowns in it, “And for the record, I assure you that I can get an idea. About the missing you part”.

 Klaus doesn’t have time to make a witty or lame retort, because Dave is leaning in, grip just a fraction firmer, thumb under his chin to tilt it up, and, at last, kiss him properly in the lips.

 As their first one, it’s soft, almost delicate, but solid, and sweet (everything is sweet with Dave, nobody ever has treated Klaus like this, it’s the most addictive thing he’s ever tried, and he’s an expert in that kind of thing), and it tastes like coming home from war, but without losing anyone, without blood under his nails and a gaping hole in his heart.

 That thought drags another somber memory to surface, and, a little frantic, Klaus’ hands disentangle from Dave’s neck and descend, patting his chest over the worn-down shirt he’s wearing, fingers searching with trembling anxiety that horrid, gruesome wound that has been plaguing his worst nightmares.

 Dave, sensing his distress, catches his hands, stopping their wandering. The kiss breaks, and Klaus curses himself, a whine echoing in the tip of his tongue. Dave shushes him, forehead against his to help  ground him in the present and not get lost in the raging stream of the past.

“I’m fine, Klaus”, with a unwavering yet gentle hold, he presses the pads of Klaus’ fingers against his sternum. Over the fabric, they only meet flat surface, no heartbeat, but neither bloody, gaping hole, or torn flesh. Dave smiles again when Klaus’ relieved sigh tickles his chin, “See? I’m fine.”

 And that… that suddenly makes Klaus angry. Not at Dave, of course. Never at him. But at life, at death, at war, at God, at himself.

“No. No, you’re not. You are _dead_ , you are _far from fine_ ”, the reply comes harsh, but Klaus is too agitated to dial down his tone. He pulls back a little, just enough to look into Dave’s eyes, “You died, and you weren’t supposed to, not you, it wasn’t _fair_ ”, he takes a shaky breath, closing his eyes, and, fuck, he’s crying again, tears sticking to his eyelashes for a few seconds before free falling, “You died, you died, and I couldn’t save you, I had the means, I could have used them, but I didn’t, we could have escaped that fucking hell sooner with that stupid briefcase, if only I wasn’t such a coward. I-I just wanted the fantasy to last a little longer, it wasn’t ideal, with all the fucking war and shit, yes, but it _was_ , in that moment. It felt like a dream, and I was _terrified_ that any change made me wake up. What did my selfishness and idiocy get me? I had to watch you die in my arms, to hold you while you choked on your own blood, and it didn’t matter how much I cried for help, no one came, and I tried, I tried to stop the bleeding, to… I don’t fucking know. But you died anyway, and the dream became a nightmare. Way to wake up, huh?”, Klaus lets a dry and ugly giggle rasps the inside of this throat, scraping his tongue in its way out, “And it’s pathetic, how you’re the one who died in a horrifying way, and I’m the one who can’t keep his shit together, Christ, I should be comforting you, not the other way around”.

In a way, it reminds him of Ben. Sure, the first time that Ben manifested after his (also horrifying, could people that he cares deeply about stop dying on him that way?) death, he has been confused and terrified, and when Klaus felt brave enough to not shut his brother’s ghost down and to talk to him, he had to calm him, but more soon than later, Ben became who took care of Klaus, giving him the reassurance he needed (whenever he wanted it or not) in his lowest moments, when he was the one that was, you know, _fucking dead_.

Klaus is going to miss Ben…

“Klaus…”

“And then,” the brunette continues, shaking his head, the tears still falling, his voice still trembling and his heart still breaking, “I couldn’t even conjure you. I tried, so fucking hard, I even got sober, and it sucked so much because the world was ending and everything was a mess, and I just wanted to stop feeling everything. But I still wanted to see you one more time, so I keep trying, every single day, even when we had to travel back in time to stop the apocalypse. Every. Fucking. Single. Day. But I just… couldn’t”, Klaus laughs again at the absurdity of it, and Dave must think that he’s crazy, god, he’s spilling all this bullshit about the apocalypse and time-travel, and although Dave knew about his powers, and some context of his past/future and of his presence in Vietnam (waking up to your lover screaming himself hoarse for the ghosts of the men murdered in that land to leave him alone was a good way of open a conversation about spooky secrets… and, ah, wasn’t Dave the most kind and compressive man on Earth, hugging him instead of kicking his lunatic scrawny ass out the bed), he surely isn’t making sense to him. Still, the words fall from his lips, like an unstoppable, vicious, dirty torrent, “Isn’t it funny? How I can communicate with the dead, a power that I’ve been hating with passion since forever, and that the _one time_  these powers could be useful, the _only one time_  that I wanted to actively use them, they just _don’t fucking work_? They were useless. I’m…”

“Klaus! Stop! Now”, Dave’s command is sharp, although the worry beneath it doesn’t go unnoticed. However, what makes Klaus silent is the firm grip on his face, a hand curving around his neck, around his jaw, and holding it tight, grounding, “Breath, okay? I need you to stop talking and _calm down_.”

The thoughts still swirl inside Klaus’ head, but they slow down a little, and he takes a shaky breath through his mouth.

“Okay. Okay, I can do that, breathing, that’s… that’s easy. Not that I need oxygen or anything now that I'm dead, but, yeah, it's relaxing, this breathing thing...”

“Attaboy”, Dave smiles, a tiny, bittersweet thing. His grip doesn’t slacken, but the fingers shift so they are caressing the skin at reach, “Listen…”, a sigh, “I’m not gonna lie: dying was horrible. It was agony, and I was terrified. When I woke up here, at first I was confused, and so, so angry. I knew, we _both_  knew what was expected from war, we lost men every day, why wouldn’t we be the next? But actually being on the end of a gunshot, laying on the dirt and knowing that this time you weren’t going to make it? That's awful. I only could think about all the things I still wanted to do, the places I wanted to go, about how young I still was, and how…”, a frown creases between Dave’s eyebrows; Kalus raises a hand, the one that isn’t clasped into Dave’s, and touches the wrinkle, coaxing it into fading, “how unfair it was that I couldn’t spend more time with you, and that you had to watch me die, as if you hadn’t been through enough already”, at that, Klaus laughs softly, because _of course_  one of the first things kind, beautiful Dave did when he found out that he was dead was worry about him, “But then… then I realised that there wasn’t anything I could do to change the fact that I was dead. Life isn’t fair, and death much less. I couldn’t spend the rest of eternity dwelling on it. So I… accepted it. Moved on. It is what it is, and we can only deal with it as best as we can. It is the only way of proving that we can still be strong, stand and keep moving forward. Yeah, I'm dead, and as you'd say, it sucks, but I’m fine”, now a smile that transforms into a charming smirk appears in Dave’s face, “Well, and now that you found me and I get to see your pretty face again, I’m much better.”

 Klaus snorts, rolling his eyes, that, luckily, aren’t overflowing with tears anymore. He’s, too, feeling better now.

“Yeah, it only took me dying to meet you again, not that it was even planned. I had nothing to do with it. If I was strong or useful enough to use my powers, I…”

“Shh, don’t you dare finish that sentence, mister. You’re talking about the love of my life there, and you have already said some pretty nasty things about him before. I won’t tolerate it.”

 Now a warm, cute blush is coloring Klaus’ cheeks, and oh, oh!, if Ben, or Diego, or even Allison saw him all flustered, him!, who knew no embarrassment since he was thirteen!, they’ll never let him live it down. Nothing can stop the goofy smile that curves his lips, though.

“How lucky this partner of yours is, with such a gentleman ready to defend his honor”, he says, mischievous glint in his now grey eyes, arms coming up to tangle over Dave’s shoulders, nose lovingly bumping against his lover's.

“Mmm, I don’t know. If I’m honest, I think I’m the one who’s the luckiest.”

“Corny. I love it.”

 They kiss again, heaviness still on Klaus’ heart, but subdued by the tender touch of Dave’s lips on his, by the way he holds him, hands around his waist and curled over his nape, by the grey sunlight and the quietness of the countryside. Yeah, this truly feels like _heaven_.

“Hey”, Dave whispers after a while of just kissing lazily in the middle of the yard. He looks into Klaus' eyes, tucking back a rebel curl behind his ear, “I’m sorry you died. I’m so happy to see you, and have you here, but… yeah, I’m sorry too”. 

“I…”, Klaus’ fingers tug slightly at Dave’s collar, trying to find what to say. Sure, he wasn’t planning to die, and if he lets himself think about it, he can even feel a little more sadness than he thought he’d feel. After all, all the crap of saving the world has made the Hargreeves grown closer than ever before. He’d be lying if he said that he isn’t going to miss his siblings. Would they miss him too? “I died saving my sisters. It was worth it.”

“Of course you did”, and the words aren’t dismissive as normally, but full of… pride. Dave has always believed in the best version of Klaus, and in doing so, made Klaus wanting to _be_  that version. 

“Although I admit that I’m a little worried about them. We are… were, they are now, in this preventing the apocalypse mission that I definitely have to tell you about because, wow, bonkers, and it’s dangerous, because we have those assholes who are time-travelling assassins trying to stop us and who attack us wherever we go. I hope they are okay. And I hope they don’t blame themselves about me dying on them. God, Ben is going to be _so_  pissed…”

As Klaus starts to get lost in thoughts about his siblings, about how would they be reacting now to his death, a shiver shakes his whole body, sudden coldness soaking his bones. 

“Klaus… Klaus!”

 But it’s not Dave the one calling his name. It’s another voice, distant, coming to him almost if he was hearing it underwater, not exactly as hearing the ghosts that haunted him but close enough. It sounded like…

“What’s wrong, baby?”, Dave touches his arm, concern pinching the corners of his eyes.

“I…”, Klaus blinks, fingers tightening his grip on Dave’s shirt, “Did you hear that? No?, I thought I heard someone calling my name. It was my… my brother’s voice? Diego’s”, he shallows, an idea crossing his mind and making him freeze. If he can hear Diego, does that means that he has died too in the attack? As in cue, he hears it again.

“Klaus, c-c’mon, you stubborn b-b-bastard!” 

 Klaus turns quickly to look at the dirty path, praying that he doesn’t find his brother there, because he can deal with himself dying, but Diego? Or any of the others? No, they _can’t die_ , the world needs them, they are way too important and neither of them deserves to die.

“He’s not here”, says suddenly a voice behind them, and Klaus and Dave, still in a loose embrace, jump in the air, both spinning around to see God calmly standing next to the garden, petting the big golden retriever lying by Her side.

“What the loving fuck?”

“Hey, watch that mouth”, reprimands God, frowning at Klaus, “We’re in paradise, don’t swear”. 

“Shocker. Who’s that?” Klaus points at the dog, that is placily spread on the grass, dark deep eyes observing them with something close to boredom, “The Holy Spirit?”

 God gives him a very unimpressed look, which, duh, because it is a very legitimate question.

“As I said,” the little girl ignores him, scratching behind the dog’s ear (and Klaus is just going in with the Holy Spirit thing), “your brother isn’t here.”

“No? Then why did I just heard him calling me stubborn bastard?”

 God keeps silent for a moment, as if She was thinking an appropriate response.

“Your family is trying to save you”, She speaks at least, reluctance in Her tone, and with the hand that isn’t petting the Holy Spirit, points towards an empty space on the field. When Klaus turns to look, Dave’s arms tensing around him, gasping surprised in his ear, the scenery has changed, and they are not longer looking at a monochromatic bunch of trees and grass.

 In the docks, the only grey thing is the cloudy sky, and Number Four watches as his siblings form a semicircle around a body slumped over the wooden tables of the loading bay. _His_  body. The leather jeans and the colourful shirt are darkened, soaked, and when he looks at his face (and, okay, even he can admit that looking at his own corpse is giving him the creeps), he only finds closed eyes, soggy curls sticking to his forehead and lips so blue that stand out grotesquely over his pale, too pale skin. A sluggish trail of blood is smeared over the left side of his head, driping down over the wetness of his skin and hair. 

 Diego is pressing his chest down rhythmically, trying to coax his heart to beat again, Vanya’s little hand gripping one of his so hard that her knuckles are devoid of color. Luther is crouched behind her, one gigantic arm serving as a support for Allison, who is moving her lips frantic. Five is the only one standing, at his feet, hands on his hair, a distressed expression on his young features that Klaus’ has only seen on very few occasions, and, Ben is at his head, trying to hold his face up only for his fingers to go through him.

 It's grotesque, and terrible, and sad, so sad.

“Am I…” Klaus clears his voice, the scene becoming too much. When he looks back at God, they’re again in heaven. It makes him feel a little dizzy, although he admits it is almost poetic: if he looks to one side, the land of living, if he looks to the other, paradise, and right in the middle that separates the two of them, he, “Am I still alive?”

“Oh, no, you are definitely dead”, God crounches, careful with Her pretty dress, smiling when the Holy Spirit licks Her fingers, “When you threw yourself over that assassin, the struggle shot the gun, wounding him mortally. But he got to hit your head quite hard too, and you both ended up falling into the water. The blow made you lose consciousness”, Klaus feels now Dave’s fingers digging a bit on his biceps, inhaling sharply. Yeah, one thing is knowing that the person you love is dead, and another listening how God describes his death with the same tact as if She was talking about the weather. But Klaus can’t find the voice to making Her shut up, way too confused and overwhelmed by the situation, “Your sisters tried to catch you, but more assassins came and they had to fight. One of them, the tiny one with the power of making things fly and explode, got to kill all of them at the end, which alerted the rest of your siblings”, only now She looks at him, and if Klaus knew better, he’ll swear that he sees a hint of pity in Her black eyes, “By the time they took you out of the water, you had already drowned.”

 Silence falls down over the field, only there is no real silence for Klaus because he doesn’t have to turn and look to heard Vanya’s sobs, or Diego’s angry and helpless stuttering, or Ben’s soft, pleading  _'_ _please, please, please'_.

“Well, shit”, Klaus says at last, giggling because that is what he does best, laugh when he’s nervous, laugh when he’s hurting, when he’s sad, when he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on. He’s sure that if Dave wasn’t holding him, he would have collapsed in a sorry lump on the grass.

“Why are you showing him this? Aren’t you supposed to be benevolent and love all your creations? This is cruel”, Dave intercedes, glaring at the girl angrily, and, wow, Klaus is the luckiest son of a bitch if he got a boyfriend ready to confront _God_  to defend him. The protectiveness radiating from Dave makes him almost giggle again, dizzy for another completely different reason ( _he’s so in love with the guy, damnit_ ).

 Still, not such a smart idea to antagonize God, it’s already enough that She hates him, he can’t risk Her kicking Dave out of paradise.

“She doesn’t like me, and She doesn’t want me here. Is this some kind of punishment for me dying again and coming back here? Because, let me tell you, it’s working. If heaven is this, I don’t want to know how Hell is, Satan has a very equal competitor.”

 And at that, God actually looks offended. She stops petting the dog, who raises their head, tongue out, expectant (or maybe just upset that the petting stops).

“I don’t like you, but this is nothing of my doing. I’m not showing you anything but the source of the voices you heard, using your _own_  connection to them”, She shakes Her head and purses Her lips as if She just bit a lemon, “Listen, your relationship with death it’s… special. You are able to exist right in the line that separates Life and Death, you are able to walk  along it and _through_  it, one direction and in the other, which should be impossible for a human. It makes you unpredictable, and, therefore, dangerous. I didn’t give you that ability and I can’t fully understand it. And I’m _omniscient_. That’s why I don’t like you”, she sweeps her glaze up and down Klaus’ figure, “Well, among 2369 more reasons.”

 Klaus is so confused that he can even think in a proper smartass comeback. He just looks at God with wide, dark rimmed eyes, the same fear that invaded him when Reginald told him that he had only scratched the surface of his full potential burning in his veins. 

“What…” he gulps, voice high-pitched, “What that means?”

 God sighs like a petulant child, and for a moment She reminds him of Five so fucking much it’s spooky.

“It means that, the same way you were capable of interacting with the dead when you were alive, and even though you are dead now, if you wanted, you could come back to life as same as the last time, and there’s nothing I could do to stop you. But you have to decide soon: having an open connection between Life and Death for a long time could cause unexpected, catastrophic consequences.”

 If Klaus still had a heart beating in his chest, he’s sure it would have stopped at those words. His mouth is suddenly very dry, and there is _something_  closing around his airway, choking him, and not in the fun, kinky way he likes. 

 He meets Dave’s eyes, afraid, no, _terrified_  of the meaning of that statement. Yeah, the deal was too perfect to be true, nothing good ever lasts when a Hargreeves is involved, only the pain, and the hard decisions, and the misery stay with them forever...

“No, no, please, no. Don’t make me choose, please, no”, his whinings fill the the air, through the knot in his throat, in a low voice, and how does he still have tears to cry?

“Shh, it’s okay, Klaus”, Dave hugs him, tight, solid, letting Klaus bury his wet face in the warm crook between his shoulder and neck, “Shh, baby… fuck”.

 Klaus feels himself tear under the pressure of the dichotomy opened before him, as a rag doll being pulled by two greedy children in two opposite directions, bursting, bleeding at the seams. 

 He wants to stay with Dave, to get his happily ever after, to water those stupid flowers and to see where that dirty road leads. He yearns for waking up in a tiny bed in the tiny cabin with the love of his life curled around him, for having juice and eggs for breakfast, and yearns for endless kisses in the sunset. He craves for being loved, for stopping feeling this tired, exhaustion engraved in his soul, this deep, raw hurt inside him, for not fighting anymore, the fights that his dad made them fight, the fight against sobriety and the ghosts that it brings, the fight for the future of the whole humanity, the fight before the next fight, and the next, and the next; he’s always fighting, mostly against himself, and he has always  _hated_  fighting.

 But he cannot abandon his family, can he? They… they have to prevent the apocalypse, the whole world needs them, everything is bigger, so much bigger than him, there are so many lives at stake. And he may not be the most useful member of the team, but he’s still a part of it and… they’ll miss him. Maybe, before all this mess, Klaus would have cracked up at the mere idea of any of his siblings batting an eye at Number Four's death (he’s sure a lot of times they thought he had finally kicked the bucket whenever they heard in the news that someone found a pitiful homeless junkie dead in a dirty alley), but now, now he _knows_  he matters to them. 

 He knows in the way Vanya laughs that tiny, timid but cute laugh of hers when he goes to cheer her up with his buffoonery after a particular hard day dealing with her new powers. 

 He knows in the way Diego always assumes he’s teaming up with him, either for missions, to go for supplyings, or to share a room. 

 He knows in how Allison’s eyes lit up when she’s overwhelmed by the sadness of missing Claire and her voice and Klaus casually asks her to paint his nails, or do his makeup, or sneak out to go trying new clothes, as they did when they were still children and not nearly as broken. 

 He knows in the way Five thanks him when he brings him another hot cup of his favorite coffee whenever he gets carried away in his calculations and equations and probabilities of saving the world, or how Luther really listens to his input without dismissing him anymore while they talk about the next plan. 

 And, of course, he knows in how Ben has always stayed by his side, the exasperated angel over his shoulder, and how incredibly happy he is now that Klaus can make him visible and even tangible to the rest of their family.

 How can Klaus pick one, and only one? He feels, as God has put it, standing just in the line between two worlds, two options, that he desperately wants, but can’t have at the same time. Only the line isn’t a line, but a tightrope thrown over an abysm, firm land far, far away, and he's the one standing at the edge of the rope. Being able to fall to one side or the other doesn’t make him feel powerful or dangerous at all; it's a free fall, after all, and it just… sucks. 

“For what is worth”, the little girl speaks again, and She’s standing now, a few steps away from where Dave and Klaus are. Her face contorts in a contrite grimace, “I’m sorry”, She is quickly in averting her eyes, expression closing off again, fully inscrutable and holy, “If you stay, don’t cause any trouble, I’ll be watching you; both of you. And if you decide to go… please, make sure that I don’t see you again soon. You give me the creeps.”

 And, through the sorrow of what’s he’s about to lose whatever he chooses, through the ache that burns deep in his chest and the exhaustion of having all the good things ripped out of his hands, Klaus has to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, grinning at Her retreating back and at the Holy Spirit that diligently follows Her, both happily walking towards the dirty road.

“Can you belive my life? Fucking hi-la-rious”, he giggles again, a hint of hysteria behind his cheerful tone, rubbing the back of his trembling hands over his puffy, crusty eyes, “I’m a big cosmic joke and I hope whoever is behind this is having a good laugh at my expense.”

“Klaus…”, Dave puts his broad hands over his shoulders, and they slump under the weight.

“I don’t know what to do”, Klaus whimpers, all fake amusement wiped off his expression, leaving him exhausted and empty. Now he really feels _dead_ , “What should I do? Tell me, please”.

 Dave lets out a long, sad, sad sigh at Klaus’ big, lost, pleading eyes. He takes his time answering, moving his hands down Klaus’ arms, rubbing gently the skin until they reach his hands, wide fingers interlacing between slender, bony ones.

“I…”, he speaks after a moment, after an eternity, “I want you here. More than anything I’ve ever wanted. I’ve been dreaming about this since before dying, in the war, about building a home with you, buy a little place somewhere nobody knows us and no one cares if we hold hands and kiss under the sunlight. I was planning of taking care of you, just like you deserve, and give you flowers every Sunday, and watch you draw and paint and knit in those skirts and dresses you told me you like to wear, and maybe own a couple of cats. I wanted us to grow old together”, a blissful smile curves Dave’s lips, and Klaus mourns, about that perfect future that never was, that maybe was never meant to be, not for him, not for them, “And we, we can have all this here, forever. Well, I’m not sure about the growing old part, I guess dead people don’t age.”

 A sound between a laugh and a sob falls from Klaus’ lips.

“That’s so beautiful, Dave. I sense a ‘but’ coming, though…”

 The blissful smiles turns sour, and Dave sighs, momently closing his eyes, as if trying to steel himself for his next words.

“But. Although I love you and need you here with me… there is people that need you more. Your family needs you, that’s evident, and for what you have told me, so does the whole world, and I can’t be selfish enough to keep you from them, even though I want. And I know asking you to make this decision is unfair, so unfair, and I hate it, believe me, but… I think you have to go back.”

 The eagerness laced with sadness in Dave’s voice is like a thousand of little needles stabbing Klaus’ heart, and he groans, throwing his head up, at the white sky.

“Why are you making sense, stop making sense, for once in your life don’t be a perfect person, be selfish and irresponsible and make me stay, ugh.”

“I can’t do that, baby. But thank you for the compliment”, his laugh quivers a little at the end, and when Klaus looks at him again, he's the one with tears in his eyes.

“Fuck”, closing his eyes, Klaus squeezes the hands holding his, before freeing one to chew at his thumb, thoughts boiling inside his head, hitting the insides of his skull angrily, like vengeful, blood-thirsty spirits, “Maybe I can go back and kill myself every time I want to see you again and then come back again to life.”

“Klaus”, Dave’s whole body tenses, a scowl twisting his features. 

“Joking, joking! I’m just joking…”, or at least he’s now, quickly backtracking under Dave’s unamused stare.

“Promise me that you won’t do any recklessness like that if you go back. You don’t know how this… ability works, not even God knows! You could get, I don’t know, lost, or trapped on a limbo, or it could stop working altogether and you’d end up really dead!”

“Fine, jezz, you know how morbid is my humor, dear, there is no need to…”

“Promise me, Klaus”, Dave grabs his chin, compelling him to focus and take the request seriously. The desperation glinting behind those dark eyes makes Klaus’ gulp.

“... okay, Dave, I promise”, the effect is immediate, Dave’s tight stance loosening, sighing relieved. Now, with a little voice, Klaus whispers his greatest worry, “What if I go back and I still can conjure you and I don’t see you again?”

“You will.”

“But what if I _can’t_.”

“You _will_ ”, Klaus frustration is met with a firm determination, leaving no room for argument, “I believe in you. I know how strong, brave, capable and _damn stubborn_  you are. And now you won’t be the only one looking, I’m going to search for you too”.

Dave confidence is a little contagious, and Klaus can feel a tiny, frail flame of hope igniting inside his chest. Still, fear lingers there too.

“I just… I’m afraid of losing you again”.

Dave smiles sweetly and kiss him, slowly, lovely, warm lips pouring all the affection he feels inside Klaus' mouth.

“You are never going to lose me. I’ll always be with you, ssweetheart” and Dave’s index loops on the chain around Klaus’ neck, the one he’s been wearing since he came back from Vietnam, and pulls, setting  the tags free from under the shirt. With reverent fingers, he caress their engraved names. Klaus feels himself grinning, hand curling around Dave’s, both resting where his heart should be beating.

“Corny, again.”

“You still love it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I do, dear.”

 It would be so easy to get lost in the moment of painless complicity, in the wrinkle around Dave’s eyes when he smiles lopsided, lips gleaming a bit with the saliva shared in their kiss, in his knuckles against Klaus’ sternum, in the warmness that fills his cold, cold bones (he’s always cold, as if he was already half a ghost) whenever he’s with him.

 Unfortunately, “easy” and “Hargreeves” are two mutually exclusive words, so Klaus twists one more time, bottom lip trapped between his teeth, the scene changing again, black and white giving way to the still dull colours of those docks. Dull is not, though, the image of his siblings, still around his lifeless form, still trying to insufflate life inside him. God, how long have been trying? How much must they wish for him to open his eyes again?

 He can see Diego’s moves becoming a bit erratic, the compressions not as rhythmic as before, his muscles growing weary. Luther seems to see it too, and he does an aborted attempt to grab one of Diego’s shoulder. 

“Diego.”

“N-no.”

“Diego”.

“N-no!”, Number Two snaps, glaring at his biggest brother. Only now Klaus catches how his black clothes look darker: he must be the one that got him out of the water, “Don’t t-tell me t-t-to stop!”

Luther raises his hands in a placating way, tone softer than he’s ever heard him.

“I’m not. Just let… let me continue. You’re exhausted”.

 Diego hesitates, mouth deformed in a grimace, eyes unable to look at Klaus’ pale face. That doesn’t seem to be a problem to Five (or maybe it’s the other side of the coin kind of problem for him), blue eyes fixed on the blue lips of his brother. There is a distant glint in them, though, an unfocused touch behind the pupils, as if his mind were straying far, far way.

“He has been unresponsive for almost twenty minutes”, the statement falls flat, but it still makes the rest flinch, “The probabilities of him to recover are s…”

“D-d-don’t you d-d-dare! F-f-fuck y-you and your pro-pro-probabilities. He’s n-not. He’s n-n-not d… d… ”, Diego can’t even finish the sentence, the stutter making his tongue stumble over the bad hidden fear of losing another important person, the letter sputtering in his mouth like firecrackers.

“C’mon, bro. You can’t leave me alone after everything we’ve been through, okay?” Ben’s words get lost for the rest, unable to hear him now that Klaus can’t conjure him. He isn’t trying to touch him anymore, but his hands hover over his cheeks, and he’s bending down, forehead close to Klaus’, “I’ve seen your sorry, scrawny ass pull through worst things, so don’t be an asshole and die now, it would be lame.”

 It’s too much, how Ben’s voice wavers, how Vanya is reduced to a sobbing mess, holding into his limp hand as if the contact is the only thing keeping her from going full white. It’s _too fucking much_ how Klaus can see Allison unable to use her voice but still moving her lips, formning the same sentence again and again like a prayer. _I heard a rumor that you wake up._

 And oh, oh!, how heartbreaking this much love can be, how heartwarming this much grief and sorrow can feel.

 Klaus turns to heaven again, to Dave, with tears in his eyes and a smile in his lips.

“I love you, Dave”, he says, deep conviction lacing the four words, infinite love pouring into the way he touches his lover's beautiful, beautiful face with the tips of his fingers, committing it to memory (as if he didn’t know every curve, every freckle, and dimple by heart already), “I love you so fucking much, and it’s wonderful how much it hurts. I swear I’ll see you again. I don’t know how long is gonna take me, but I’m not going to let a pesky little thing as death keep us apart, okay?

 Dave’s gleeful laugh floods the quiet air. 

“Okay. I love you too. And I’m proud of you, sweetheart”, Klaus beams, through the heartache, and the grin only subdues when they kiss again, one last time, “Now go, your family is waiting for you”.

“Yeah, yeah, always so damn impatient, those jerks”, shaking his head fondly, Klaus rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck and takes a deep breath. Only after a few seconds, he notices a tiny detail, “Uh. I don’t really know how to go do this. The other time I revived, it just happened, I did literally nothing.”

“Maybe… try to feel the connection Gof talked about?”, Dave suggest, unsure, taking a step back and leaving room for Klaus (and that space between them now feels cold, cold,  _cold_ ).

“Yeah, that’s a wonderful idea. No pressure whatsoever, it’s not like my lack of control over this can cause unexpected and catastrophic consequences or anything.”

“Klaus, focus.”

“I’m just saying, maybe it runs in the family, this thing for dramatic ending the world, my sister…”

“Klaus.”

“I’m focusing, I’m focusing!”, taking another deep breath, Klaus tries to find that damned connection. He remembers that, when he started to hear the voices of his siblings calling, he was thinking of missing them, worried about how they took his death. So he chases that feeling, and all of the rest bubbling emotions, old and new, that he associates with his mismatched, broken, little family.

 Sudden cold prickles his skin, lacerating, and he gasps loudly, lungs burning, body shivering.

“You’re doing it! It’s working!”, he hears Dave exclaiming, enthusiasm and bewilderment in his voice. Klaus looks down at his hands and he sees the blue of his veins over pale skin; he’s not longer black and white, but a soaking colorful spot into heaven’s canvas, a proof that he’s right over the edge, almost _there_  (that and the fact that now he truly feels like having drown; it’s not fun at all).

“Yeah!”, a rush of adrenaline floods his veins, not very different from the one he felt when he manifested Ben in the theater, and he feels a itching in the back of his head, like if the only thing left to do is push  _a little_  more, just taking one more step forward, to let the tightrope go and free fall into the abysm. Klaus doubts, one last time, looking at Dave, who’s watching him all sad and proud and full of love and _beautiful_.

“Let go, sweetheart. Let go.”

“See you soon, Dave”, Klaus kisses his own palm, the one with GOODBYE tattooed (but is not a goodbye, he’s not going to let it be a goodbye), and then blows it at his lover, giggling when he pretends to catch the kiss mid-air and put it inside the pocket of his shirt like the dork he is.

 That last image, happy and sweet, it’s what makes him take the last step.

 Klaus jumps.   

 

    ***

 When Klaus opens his eyes, all he sees is a cloudy, greyish sky and the teary, shocked faces of his siblings looking down at him, and the first thought that crosses his mind is a “oh, shit, this water tastes disgusting”.

 Maybe it isn't the most appropriate thing to first think when you discover that you're alive (again), having just came back from heaven, leaving the love of your life and the promise of eternal peace (definitely _not_  overrated) behind, but, let’s be honest, Klaus has never been known for being appropriate or anything of the sort.

 After that thought, though, his lungs remind him that alive people can’t breath with water filling their lungs, and with a raw, wet cough, he sits up at sudden, very zombie-like, only missing head butting Diego in the nose thanks to Number Two’s extraordinary reflexes.

“Klaus! Oh, thank god”, someone exclaims, he’s not sure who, still light-headed, eardrums ringing and a terrible, terrible headache blossoming inside his skrull, worst than most of the hangovers he's ever had. If the sensation is caused by his little travelling back to the land of living (has his heart beating always be this annoying?) or by the lack of oxygen his body has been undergone for so long, he doesn't know. 

“Excuse me, she didn’t have anything to do with this, I came back all by myself”, it’s what he mutters, but between the cough fit he’s currently having, gargling what seems to be half dirty ocean, and the chattering of his teeth against each other, whole body shivers shaking him like a maraca, because, hello, he’s soaked and freezing, the sentence sounds like a garbled nonsense.

 His trembling must be quite intense, apparent for anyone witnessing, because not five seconds later something heavy lands over his shoulders, covering his arms, back and torso. He manages to sighs, the coughing subduing, although leaving the walls of his throat raw and with an awful salty taste, burrowing deeper into the warmness of Luther's gigantic coat.

 God, Klaus’ is totally drained, kids, don't try this at home…

“Don’t you _ever_ ”, demands Ben’s voice near his ear, and Klaus has only enough energy to half turn in his direction. Despite his harsh, upset tone, a huge smile fills half his face, contrasting sharply with his wet eyes, “do something like that again, do you hear me, asshole?”

 Klaus doesn’t get the chance to reply because Diego grabs his face quite forcefully, titling it until he can look at him dead in the eyes.

“Scare us like that again, scare _me_  like that again, and I’ll kill you. Understood?”, his brother has his eyes narrowed, deadly seriousness in his features, but then he’s pulling Klaus into a bone-crushing hug, and it’s so Diego, that sweetness protected behind layers and layers of sourness, that Klaus can’t even complain about almost being unable to breath in the tight embrace.

“That…” his voice is scratchy, and he has to lick his lips, gulping, before trying to speak again, tone low and hoarse, “That sounds highly unproductive and very proclive to create a paradox, bro, not very smart… Ouch!”, and maybe he deserves that slap on the side of the head (carefully avoiding the cut on his temple), “Wow, thank you, guys, please, don’t be so kind, what a better way that welcoming me back than insulting and hitting me, it’s truly heartwarming.” 

 His whining lifts a little bit more the somber shadow of the situation, his ramblings so common, so normal, that helps his siblings believing that the nightmare has truly ended and their Number Four, their silly, crazy, soft _Klaus_ is safe.

“We should move”, Five takes a step closer and kicks Klaus’ feet lightly, before pointing with his chin at their surroundings, “It’s not wise staying here. Someone is going to come and I don’t think any of you wants to be here when explanations are required.”

 Now Klaus notices the bodies’ of their attackers, or whatever is left of them, splayed all over the docks and floating in the water, blood and gore everywhere. Vanya sniffs a little at his side, and he turns his gaze on her, embarrassment and a bit of fear clear on her big, brown eyes. Klaus grins at her, a tiny but sincere thing, and he squeezes her hands, still holding his.

“C’mon, I’ll help you get up. Do you think you can walk? I can carry you otherwise”, Luther offers, paw already circling his upper arm (he goes through Ben, who’s at Klaus back, and Number Six glares at their biggest brother, all offended).

“Wait, wait, wait”, Klaus weakly waves his free hand, letting his heavy, heavy head drop on Diego’s shoulder, who’s still half-hugging him, “just… five minutes before going back to responsibilities and being heroes and _doing things_ , please?”

 Five and Luther seem ready to protest, and yeah, they are right, it has just been dumb luck that nobody came to snoop after hearing gunshots and the sound of the turmoil and people exploding, and they don’t want to be here when finally someone starts asking questions.

 But then Allison raises her hand and pats Klaus’ head, fondly caressing his wet curls out of his forehead. With her other hand, she points at the rest, the five fingers extended, silently asking them to indulge in those five minutes of pause.

 And they do, and Klaus lets out a shaky breath, sniffing a little, the lonely tear that escapes his left eye unseen among the drops dripping down his hair. At least, for everyone except the always hyper-observant, super-smart Five.

“Are you okay?”, he ask, quietly.

 Ain’t that the one million dollar question. 

 Number Four thinks about what Dave said about life (and death) being a bitch, some things being what they were, not way of change them, and how the only way to survive and face them is accept them and do the very best we can with what we’re given, proving that we are still standing and nothing can keep us down.

 He could dwell on how much he’s missing Dave, how his whole body and soul hurts, how terrified he is of his powers and its unknown magnitude, how he wants to lay down and forget about saving the world and just _stop_.

 But instead, he decides to focus on the movements of the shoulder under his cheek, Diego’s strong arms embracing and supporting him, big, protective brother mode full on; he focus on Ben’s ghostly presence at his back, always there with him, for him; on Luther’s coat almost swallowing him in cozy fabric, on Allison’s fingers gently petting his hair with a soft, soft smile, and on Vanya’s smaller ones wrapped securely around his skinny wrist, pads just over his pulse point, as if she couldn’t get enough of feeling his heartbeat under them. He focus on the relieved glint in Five’s blue eyes when he looks at him. Klaus has a lot of reasons to move forward, after all.

“No”, he answers his brother with honesty, and he answers himself too, shaking his head. However, he smiles, wide, toothy and brokenly, sad and happy at the same time, and moving his free hand up, Klaus closes his cold fingers around the metal tags hanging over his warm chest, “I’m not. But, don’t worry: I’m almost there”.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it or at least didn't hate it! Don'd doubt to let me know your thoughts and feels and worries and existential crisis. ¡Gracias!


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